The Assassin
by Madd Madds
Summary: The first murder was a simple thing. A dead banker. Mr Jones. By the time the fourth murder came about, Jordan was certain that something alien was going on. And that was when she met John Watson. Sherlock and John are investigating a murder scene when UNIT come to call taking it and the investigation away. But when has Sherlock even been able to let anything go? (Jordan/John)
**The Assassin**

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Me: this started out as a character study of Jordan and then evolved into its own story. I hope you enjoy my second crossover in the HTL-TARDIS universe. I own nothing but Tory, Jordan and the ideas behind this fiction. Thank you. This fiction is completely un-Beta read so if you find any mistakes I apologise sincerely.

Tory: this fic is spilt into three parts: The Assassin, The Confession and The End.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

 _Italics are thoughts or telepathic communication_

 **Bold is information on a computer screen or text message.**

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Jordan was working when it happened. But then again, when wasn't she working? The first murder was a simple thing. A dead banker. Mr Jones, he was perfectly normal and human; the only reason it crossed her desk at all was the strange circular burn mark at the back of the victim's neck. But Scotland Yard had ruled it a murder; they had even caught the killer, who confessed to the crime. Some freelance detective named Sherlock Homes and his boyfriend John Watson were apparently responsible for the quick capture.

It was the second and third murders that brought the case back to her desk. Both of them were exactly the same as the first and both of them had different killers, both of whom were caught. The problem: the M.O.s were exactly the same in every case, which logically meant that it was the same murderer behind each one. But that was impossible.

By the time the fourth murder came about, Jordan was certain that something alien was going on. And that was when she met John Watson. On a side note, it turned out that John wasn't gay and he wasn't actually Sherlock's boyfriend but that's Jordan's business, not ours.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

To be honest, Jordan had really rather hated the Doctor. This was before she had actually met him of course; she had only seen him as the man who had taken her best friend away and replaced her with a new version. A version so different and yet so similar that it damn near broke Jordan's heart to be around her sometimes. But soon enough, whilst Jordan had still mourned for her lost friend, she loved the new version just as much and she had the Doctor to thank for her. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. But Jordan wasn't about to tell him that; his head was big enough already. She could have done without him taking her friendship and skillset as an open invitation to kidnap her whenever he felt like it though.

They had always just clicked, even when they were young and Tory had come racing to the rescue of the bullied Jordan Mason. The pair were closer than sisters back then and they would be until Jordan died; she wasn't being morbid, she was being realistic. She was going to die first. Tory would just regenerate again.

Back then, and now, if you hurt one the other would come down on you so hard you were lucky to survive, so it really wasn't a surprise that Jordan's latest boyfriend staggered out of Jordan and Tory's shared flat clutching a bloody nose and with the beginning of a beautiful pair of black eyes.

Jordan slammed the door behind her, now ex, boyfriend with a vicious grin on her face. The bastard deserved whatever he got after what he had said to Tory. She turned and walked into the kitchen where Tory was standing and glaring at the wall in silence.

"You alright?" Jordan asked walking up to Tory and putting an arm over her shoulders.

"Fine." Tory sighed, "Just gosh darn peachy."

 _Ah sarcasm, how I've missed you._

"Uhuh. Whatever you say dear." Jordan muttered as she stepped away from Tory and over to the sink to wash the dishes left after that horrendous dinner.

"We'll not be seeing him again then?" Tory asked casually as she leant against the kitchen counter to watch Jordan work.

"No." Jordan agreed, her voice turning hard, "We'll not."

"Good."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Have you ever considered that maybe you're just hard to relate to?" Tory asked one day, weeks later as she and Jordan walked through U.N.I.T. HQ to the practice range.

"What?" Jordan glanced at her friend in confusion.

"Do you think you're hard to relate to?" Tory said.

"No. You understand me."

"Yeah. But I'm a hybrid alien that's known you your whole life. I really can't be used as a base line for normal interaction." Tory pointed out with a grin.

"You may have a point." Jordan conceded.

"I always have a point!"

"Sure you do." Jordan smirked and Tory huffed.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

A month later Jordan resisted the urge to sigh as she squeezed herself around a loud pair of three year-olds; their mother was ignoring them as she drank her coffee. Jordan balanced her lunch tray in her hands as she weaved through the rest of the late lunch crowd; she was searching out an empty table. Tory was off with the Doctor and Jordan was left on Earth, taking care of the home-world. Tory and the Doc where always just a phone call away but Jordan thought that humanity needed to take care of itself. But it was nice to know that the two were watching over them, ready to jump in if needed and, admittedly, when they weren't.

Finally she found a blessedly empty table and placed her tray down, laying her claim, before staring at her lukewarm lunch. After all the effort to get it and the table, it was suddenly very unappealing. This time the resigned sigh left her lips without protest. She missed Tory's cooking.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

John Watson, blogger, military doctor, carer of Sherlock Holmes was not happy. Lunch hour was a bitch. The place was always overcrowded; full of screaming children and their tired mothers which meant no empty tables, but of course it was the only place close enough.

The only empty seat he could spot was on a table already taken by a woman. A hot woman; actually sharing didn't seem too bad...

John moved over to the woman's table, she glanced up at him.

"Do you mind?" he questioned, gesturing to the seat opposite her.

"No. Go ahead." The woman had a pleasant smile and John took a moment to admire it before sitting.

"Is it too cheesy to ask what a girl like you is doing in a place like this?" he asked, throwing out his best 'lady-killer' smile. The woman was surprised for a moment before smirking.

"Not at all. Would it be if I said: 'waiting for you'?" she winked playfully and John chuckled.

The woman was slightly taller than average and dressed in a trouser-suit that wouldn't look out of place on a professional CEO. But it turned out the she was a secretary, but the word was said with resentment, an obvious distaste for the word and job. The two talked for nearly half an hour before Jordan, that was her name, was called away. Apparently all it took was a frantic phone call and a strange word, (Sontarun? Was that it?) probably something to do with what ever business she worked for. It was a shame that she had had to run off so soon, John would have liked her number.

Strangely, this wouldn't be the last time that John and Jordan met in that crowed shopping mall cafe. In fact, there were three more lunch dates on the cards before John finally got Jordan Mason's number. Two days after that, John had to reschedule due to his flatmate, they finally made it to their first real date.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Jordan was frowning to herself as her eyes surveyed her open wardrobe with something akin to disgust on her face; it had been a long time since she had been on a date with a man she actually wanted to impress and currently she was finding her current options to be somewhat lacking.

Tory was splayed across Jordan's unmade bed, a small grin on her face as her eyes darted between the human and her book; she was planning to read for the rest of the evening, a pastime she had always loved. The alien thought it funny that Jordan was so nervous about this one date. She hadn't seen her like this since they were teenagers! At that time the date had led to a year long relationship that was then ended by mutual agreement when the boy moved to South Africa. He and Jordan still emailed sometimes.

"Remember to use protection." said Tory casually, turning a page in her novel as Jordan choked on air.

"You..! What?" Jordan stuttered, rounding on her flatmate.

"Protection." Tory repeated, elongating the word obnoxiously.

"That's none of your business." Jordan pointed out with a glare. She turned back to her clothes with a huff, not really noticing Tory's satisfied smirk as she finally made a choice about what to wear. "Out." Jordan ordered.

Tory sighed but rolled off the bed without further prompting and left the room, shutting the door behind her. She moved off into the living room and settled down into 'her' chair, her attention back on her book.

Back in her room Jordan put the final touches on her look for the evening. She was going to be meeting John at a Greek restaurant, a high class but still affordable establishment. She had mentioned a love for the exotic, for Earth anyway, food that John had evidently remembered. Her makeup was light and simple and her clothes were the same: a knee length green dress with a white ribbon wrapped around her waist and simple white strappy shoes with very small heels. She was rather tall for a woman and John was a little on the short side; she didn't want to tower over him. Deeming herself ready Jordan checked her phone and swore softly, the taxi was due any second!

Jordan fast walked through the flat, only pausing long enough to grab her keys and share some exasperated words with Tory. Tory wolf-whistled when she caught sight of her human. Jordan gave her the middle finger.

"Be careful tonight." Tory warned, half-serious, half-teasing and completely ignoring the rude gesture she had just been subjected to. "No dark alleys and text me if you end up going home with him."

"He has a flat mate!" Jordan protested loudly.

"That he hasn't told you the name of and so we can't see if he actually exists."

"I'll be fine." Jordan insisted, turning away and opening the door. "I am a successful, fully trained, agent: I can defend myself." She stepped out. "Wish me luck!"

"Have fun!" Tory responded just as the door closed. The alien shook her head with a grin before becoming absorbed in her book once more.

Jordan walked down the stairs - the lift was broken - and went outside. The taxi was already waiting and Jordan climbed in without issue. It was odd, she thought, to date someone as herself, usually any romance was part of her undercover work with UNIT. But John was interested in HER not some alias that the government had made. She stubbornly ignored the fuzzy feelings that knowledge produced.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

John was already waiting for her at the restaurant. Jordan climbed out of her taxi, leaning back in the window to pay the driver, and then turned to face her destination. John was inside already, having laid claim to a window seat and beamed at her as he spotted her at the curb. Jordan smiled back and made sure her phone was on vibrate before entering the restaurant.

To an outside observer the couple in the window seemed to be an odd match. The man, short, pale and blond. He had a kind face but his eyes were older than they should be, had seen more than they ought to. The woman was taller, with dark hair and darker skin, she had the air of someone active and adventurous, but bore herself with an air of pride. But somehow the two complimented each other; he was a calmness to her storm. It was strange to think that if not for a simple twist of fate they would never have met.

The evening progressed well. Neither party were interrupted by their work or by their flatmates. It was nice, they both privately thought, to go out and relax for once. Eventually, while waiting for dessert, the topic of John's so far elusive roommate turned up.

"He's not the easiest to get along with," John said with a shrug and a theatrical grimace, "but it's never boring. Does take a little getting used to. But he's saved my life. You might have heard of him, his name's Sherlock."

Jordan froze, her glass of wine halfway to her mouth. The glass was lowered slowly back to the table.

"Your roommate is Sherlock Holmes?" Jordan questioned, half-irritated and half-afraid; if it really was the Sherlock that crossed her desk then she wouldn't be permitted to continue her relationship with John until the case was closed as it would be considered a conflict of interest. But of course, Jordan couldn't actually explain that to him as her work was classified and John was under the impression that she was a sectary.

"Yeah." John shifted slightly in his seat, watching her reactions carefully. "Is that a problem?"

"I….." Jordan hesitated. "John.." she sighed, trying to work out the best way to explain.

Her work phone rang.

"I'm sorry," she pulled out the phone, "I have to take this." She answered the call. "This is Mason."

"Jordan," said Tory on the other side of the call, "there's been another murder."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Jordan climbed out of her U.N.I.T provided transport with a sigh. She had been having so much fun before John's revelation and Tory's call. But her time in the car had given her an idea; she was pretty certain that if she transferred John and Sherlock's case to another department she could date him without U.N.I.T throwing up a fuss.

She was met at the police tape by a U.N.I.T assigned assistant, the two women ignored the protesting police officers that were being forced back by a group of U.N.I.T soldiers, as they ducked under the police tape. Jordan held out her right hand a tea was pressed into the palm by another passing soldier; she had her team very well trained. The soldier, Brian, fell into step with the assistant, Claire, a coffee still in his grip for bribing Tory. In his other hand there was a tablet containing all the information they had on the murders so far.

Jordan led the way into the tent they were using to conceal the latest body. An alien body. Finally.

The body was in the centre of the tent-room, Tory on the far side leaning over a table set up with technical equipment that cost more than Jordan made in a year, two guards stood on the inside of the tent watching over the body and the expensive equipment.

Jordan spared a glance for the body on the floor, face down, burn mark on the back of the neck and the flesh coloured makeup slightly smeared, just enough to see the green tinged natural skin underneath. She walked passed the victim and over to Tory's side, taking the coffee from Brian and placing it at Tory's elbow.

"Results?" she asked.

Tory pushed away from the table, grabbing the coffee and downing the scolding liquid in one.

Jordan spotted Claire wince out of the corner of her eye; still unused to Tory's alienisms after her extended maternity leave.

"Nothing yet." Tory answered, handing the finished drink to Brian who saluted and left the tent. "I love having minions." She turned to Jordan. "Why can't we have minions around the office?"

"Focus Tory."

"Little-Miss-Moody-Pants." Tory muttered under her breath before quickly continuing in a louder voice. "The victim had a communication device in his hands," she pointed to the small strange box that had been in the palm of the victims' hand and baffled the police. "I'm working on hacking it and tracking his last call. I'll call for you when I have results."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

John had taken been abandoned by his date rather well, she had warned him it was a possibility though as to why he had no idea. As far as he was concerned she was a personal assistant; it sounded better than secretary in Jordan's opinion. Sherlock had sent him a text almost immediately after Jordan left anyway so his evening would have been ruined even if Jordan hadn't been called into work. It was almost nice not to have his date ruined by Sherlock for once.

John hailed a cab, sitting in the back after giving the driver the address of 221B, he toyed with his phone: would it seem desperate to text her about meeting up for lunch if he did it right now? He decided it would and put away his phone. Climbing out of the cab he paid the driver and was about to walk up to the door when Sherlock tore out of it and into the cab John had just left.

"John!" He yelled excitedly. "There's been another murder! Christmas!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sherlock and John climbed out of the taxi at the latest crime scene, Sherlock leaving John to pay, and walked straight towards the crime scene tape that was separating him from the tent that was hiding the body.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade was yelling at them from the line of police cars. He jogged over to them. "Sorry, shouldn't have called you out, that U.N.I.T lot have taken over the investigation."

"They still need me." Sherlock stated.

John rolled his eyes while Lestrade sighed.

"They've got their own genius." Lestrade shrugged. "Sorry boys, not our case anymore." He turned and walked back to his waiting car.

Sherlock clenched his fists and glared at the nearest U.N.I.T guard.

"What now?" John questioned. "Back to the flat?"

"No. Call your girlfriend."

"What?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Jordan and her assistant had just left the U.N.I.T command truck with the intent to check up on Tory's progress when her phone started to ring. Jordan pulled the device out, not bothering to check the ID.

"This is Mason."

"Jordan?" it was John.

"John." Jordan smiled. "Sorry, again, for running out on you."

"It's fine." He reassured her. "Nice change actually, normally I'm the one that does the running out." Another male voice on John's end of the call made an impatient noise.

"Everything okay?" Jordan questioned.

"Sherlock's just being Sherlock again."

"Okay." Jordan sounded amused, moving towards the tent, her assistant behind her. "Anything you wanted to talk about?"

"You could say that." John suddenly sounded aggravated. Something told Jordan that her night was about to get much, much, worse.

"You're here," Jordan stopped walking, pulling the phone away from her ear and speaking to her assistant, "fetch Tory," she ordered, "tell her John's here." Claire left and Jordan put the phone back to her ear. "You can probably see me too, can't you?"

"Yep." The answer was sharp. He knew she had lied about who she was. What she did. Everything. Jordan closed her eyes. "Turn around." Jordan was resigned now, there was nothing she could do to make this right.

Jordan ended the call and slid the phone back into her pocket. She took a steadying breath and slowly turned. On the other side of the police tape was John and a tall man that had to be Sherlock. Sherlock smirked and waved, John just stared.

"Bad day." Jordan muttered to herself. "Really bad day."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

John listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before letting his arm drop. Jordan started to move towards them.

"How did you know she was lying?" John demanded.

"Her shoes." Sherlock answered. "You said she was a personal assistant but her shoes were made for physical labour, not for standing around in an office as one would assume."

"When did you see her shoes?"

"Followed you to one of your lunches." Sherlock answered dismissively.

John sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

"Don't know if I should thank you, or hit you."

Jordan stopped in front of the pair.

"John." She smiled but it fell when John didn't return the gesture.

"I thought you were a personal assistant."

Jordan hesitated.

"It can be argued that that is in fact true...technically." She paused. "I assume Scotland Yard called you?"

"Indeed." Sherlock jumped into the conversation, offering his hand. "Shall I tell you where you've gone wrong? Doesn't matter you won't understand it anyway. You'll be needing my help. " He tried to move under the tape, Jordan stopped him.

"Actually," she gave a tight lipped smile. "I won't." she turned to walk away.

"You are in a constant state of worry," Sherlock began. Jordan paused. "about your best friend or a family member, they travel a lot and tell you very little. John is your first real relationship in a while probably because you or her, it is a 'her' isn't it? Scare them off. You love your parents but don't often talk to them, probably because they disapprove of that same friend, or she didn't have the best home life so you didn't introduce her in some misguided attempt to not make her feel bad. You pretended to be a secretary, but your not, its all in your build, your practical clothes. You're not dressed to look pretty in an office. You have callouses on your fingers but they're from holding a pen not typing. You have to do a lot of paperwork. Signing things. That means you're high up. In charge. The soldiers take your orders. You're Intelligent. But obviously not as smart as you think if you're turning down my help." He paused and Jordan turned to face him. "Am I getting warm?" Jordan's shoulders tensed.

"Sherlock…." John tried to warn.

"Not now John." Sherlock waved him off. "Now, where was I? Your best friend is someone you work with, probably got them their job in the first place and they're childish. But you, you lie every day, to keep her safe and they don't even care, don't ever thank you, you're just a tool to her, a-" he was cut off as Jordan punched him across the jaw. Sherlock hit the floor.

"Shut it." She shook out her fist and smirked down at Sherlock. "Wait there." She turned and walked away.

Sherlock smirked as he climbed back to his feet, blood dripping from his split lip.

"Finally one of your women might be useful, John."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I just punched the most arrogant man on the planet." Jordan announced as she entered the tent.

"Oh?" Tory glanced back at her. "Any damage?"

"Spilt his lip."

"I meant to you." Tory sighed, putting down whatever she was doing and moving over to Jordan's side, she lifted her hand and looked over her knuckles.

"I'm fine." Jordan pulled her hand back and hit Tory on the arm. "And where were you?! I sent for you earlier!"

"Eh? Oh. The minion didn't have coffee."

"So you ignored her? And her name is Claire."

"Yep."

"Brilliant." Jordan rolled her eyes. "Come on." She started leading the way out.

"What's out there?" Tory asked.

"John."

"You brought him?!"

"No. Sherlock did."

Tory groaned.

"I'm too tired to deal with a highly functioning sociopath." She whined.

"If I have to, you have to!" Jordan snapped. Tory sighed exaggeratedly but followed Jordan docilely out the tent.

"Is this the person in charge?!" Sherlock demanded. "Good. You'll be needing my help." Tory just looked unimpressed.

"He could be useful." Jordan pointed out slyly.

"You just want an excuse to tell John the truth." Tory shook her head, glancing at John who looked confused.

"I'll handle the paperwork." Jordan reassured.

Tory rolled her eyes.

"This isn't really the time to be getting your boyfriend clearance…" Tory trailed off and her head tilted to the side as her connection to the communication device activated. "Interesting…" she muttered.

"Tory?" Jordan asked.

Suddenly, Tory darted under the tape, around the two men and after a shadowed figure that had just vanished down a side ally.

"God damn it!" Jordan yelled, pulling her gun and chasing after Tory.

"The game is on!" Sherlock yelled happily, chasing after the two women, John hot on his tail.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Jordan lost sight of Tory nearly moments after chasing after her. She had also lost her followers, John and Sherlock. She was alone. In the dark. With a killer on the loose.

"I am going to die." Jordan muttered, slowly making her away through the dark (and why was it so dark anyway? They were in the middle of bloody London!), hoping to find Tory.

"So happy to oblige." Something growled.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

John and Sherlock had lost sight of Jordan and the other woman moments after following them into the strangely dark streets.

Sherlock made a frustrated noise and looked around, trying to spot where the two women had vanished to.

"Do you hear that?!" John demanded. Sherlock froze, listening.

A female scream.

The two started running again.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

John and Sherlock emerged from their alley. Ahead of them was an opening. A sort of crossroads. In the centre of this space was the crumpled form of Jordan. Bent over her was an impossible thing. A massive hunched form. Its skin was scaled. The only piece of clothing it seemed to wear was a belt wrapped around its waist. He...it was holding a futuristic looking gun. Oh crap.

Time seemed to slow. John's arm rose as if it were passing through a thick jell. Sherlock's mouth opening, about to cry out. Anything they did would be too late.

The creature went flying.

Time restarted. John's arm finished its arc. Sherlock's cry was aborted before it could leave his throat.

Silver flooded the crossroads. Blinding them for a moment. The creature staggered to its feet. Fleeing the scene. A new figure entered. It chased the creature for only a moment before returning to Jordan's side. As the silver's brightness faded the figure, a woman, was revealed. It was the woman that Jordan had fetched, back at the crime scene; they had never learnt her name. But she didn't look human anymore. The silver light was emanating from her, dancing over and under her skin like starlight. Was it starlight? John didn't know. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sherlock staring in abject shock. Though, admittedly, John was no better. The silver woman was floating a few feet above the ground. She seemed to glide as she moved back to Jordan's side. But she made no move to help. She just floated there. Watchful.

Jordan clearly needed medical help, there was a small growing pool of blood around her head and her stomach was smoking lightly. But the woman did nothing!

John couldn't take it anymore. He was a doctor! An army doctor! And he was just standing there. Useless! Jordan was hurt and he was just standing around. Well, not anymore.

John charged out into plain view. The second he was visible the woman reacted. Her hands were thrown out in his direction. A solid wave of silver sprang from her fingers. It gouged a crater into the floor at his feet. A warning shot. John glared up at her. Blank, molten, silver orbs stared back.

"Look." John snapped. "I don't know what the hell you are. But you seemed close to Jordan before, you care about her. And what you're doing right now is denying her the medical care she needs. Care I can provide. So listen to me. And let me pass."

There was an impossibly long pause.

John felt the brush of displaced air that meant Sherlock had moved to cover his back. The army-doctor could feel sweat dripping down the side of his face. Was she going to kill them? Had he damned them? All he had wanted was a relationship with a pretty girl, was that too much to ask?

Finally. The woman moved. She glided back a few feet. A clear invitation.

John darted forwards. He dropped to his knees at Jordan's side. His hands moved to check her vitals.

"She's alive." He announced, his relief hidden under his professionalism.

The silver light illuminating the alley started to dim.

"Her stomach, John?" Sherlock prompted. He moved closer cautiously, watching the floating woman for any sign of aggression. With his attention so focused on her, he was the only one to see her light brighten once more. His deductions ran away with him. Was the light a direct reaction to the emotional sitmulas of the situation? The woman didn't notice Sherlock's appraisal, her attention was focused on John and on Jordan.

John lifted the charred remains of Jordan's clothes, revealing the burnt and destroyed skin underneath. But there was no blood. Whatever had been used to hurt her had burnt so hot it sealed the wound it had made.

The woman reacted to the sight of the wound. The silver light she produced flaring out once more, growing stronger until it almost seemed to be solid as it surrounded the group in a sphere.

" _What does she need?_ " the woman's mouth didn't move but is was her voice that echoed through Sherlock and John's minds. Was this creature psychic?

"Interesting." Sherlock muttered.

" _What does she need?_ " the creature repeated, her head tilted towards John, the question meant for him.

John hesitated only a moment.

"I have a kit at the flat that might help," he answered, business-like, slipping back into his professional persona, "but she needs to get to the hospital as soon as possible."

The woman gave a slow nod.

"The flat is closer than ." Sherlock pointed out. The woman's gaze turned to him.

" _Distance and Time are no object. Where?_ "

"221B Baker Street."

The sphere around them seemed to convulse. The light grew to blinding levels. When the light cleared the alley was empty. There was no trace, human or alien.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

 **The Confession**

/\/\/\/\/\/\

They were back at Baker Street. That was the first thing John noticed as the sliver-dust-light-thing faded away. The second thing was that Jordan was now lying on the couch and the third was the intrigued look Sherlock was staring at the woman/alien with. John decided to ignore the sociopath and moved into the kitchen, grabbing his first aid kit and moving back to Jordan to begin treating the burns on her stomach. The woman was scanning the room protectively, looking for threats, even as the sliver glow started to fade.

"Some sort of stress-based reaction?" Sherlock concluded, muttering to himself. "Emotional bond?"

The silver light completely vanished, her eyes returned to their normal blue. She sagged slightly as the energy drain caught up with her. Sherlock grabbed her arms, manipulating her into a seat before she collapsed completely. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to stay awake and aware, her gaze fixed onto Jordan.

"She'll be fine." John finally announced. "The burns are mainly superficial. Give her a week or so to heal and she'll be lying to innocent men about who she is again in no time." He moved away from the couch, resentment clear in the tone of his voice.

The woman snorted disdainfully at him.

"I don't see what she saw in you." She murmured scornfully.

John ignored her and moved back into the kitchen to put away the first aid kit.

Sherlock continued to stare.

"I want answers."

"I want sleep." she muttered, "Seems neither of us are getting what we want." She managed to lurch to her feet and followed John to the kitchen, going through the cupboards and fridge, not even pausing at the various body parts and 'experiments' around the place. Eventually she found what she was looking for and ate it. She shuddered at the sudden burst of energy and made her way back to Jordan's side, sitting and waiting for the other woman to wake up. Determinedly ignoring Sherlock and John in the process.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

For Jordan consciousness returned slowly, the last thing she remembered was the lizard-alien-murderer shooting her in the stomach. Not a pleasant memory to say the least. She listened to what was around her; quiet breathing, an irritated huffing, and the sound of a kettle boiling. Three people? It didn't smell like a hospital, so she wasn't in a hospital. Did that mean that her injuries weren't that bad? Well her stomach definitely ached so maybe not. There was a hand running through her hair, most likely Tory.

"I have tea." That was Tory's voice, wait…. tea?

Jordan's eyes opened like a shot to see an amused and relieved Tory looking down at her, one hand in Jordan's hair and the other holding a mug that could only contain Jordan's favourite drink.

"Help me up." Jordan ordered, her eyes fixed on the mug.

Tory chuckled but did as she was told before surrendering the mug to Jordan's reaching hands. The human woman took a sip and smiled to herself as the soothing liquid slipped down her throat.

"The assassin's a lizard-man." Jordan said casually, her empty had moving to hover over her painful stomach, before blinking and looking around. "Where are we anyway?"

"221B Baker Street." Sherlock announced as he entered the room grandly, John following in his wake. "Now," Sherlock clapped his hands eagerly and flopped into his chair, John sitting as well but with more restraint his knuckles where white where they clenched into fists, "you, Miss Mason, have been lying. That makes you interesting. Torchwood or UNIT?" John looked to him in confusion. Jordan and Tory shared a glance.

"We don't have to tell them anything." Jordan offered reluctantly. "They don't have the clearance."

"Clearance?" John repeated. "What are you two? High grade military?" he demanded. Jordan winced at the restrained anger in his voice.

"Obviously John." Sherlock snapped.

"Something like that." Jordan answered, ignoring Sherlock completely, her voice steady; she hadn't really wanted to lie to him but it was necessary, and if John couldn't accept that then there was nothing she could do.

"You would have had to tell them anyway." Tory said, sighing.

"What?" Jordan turned to her friend, confused. "Why?"

"If you kept dating," Tory explained, "what if John ended up staying the night? What if he saw the TARDIS? I mean he's not dumb is he? He'd'ave noticed something!"

"Thanks." John muttered sarcastically; _she's almost as bad as Sherlock!_

Jordan glanced between John and Tory, a thoughtful frown on her face.

Sherlock sat forwards in his chair, his fingers pressed together and in front of his lips, ready to listen and intrigued by these two women. John sat back in his chair, faking disinterest but just as attentive as Sherlock.

"What do you know about aliens, Mr Holmes?" Tory questioned her tone completely serious.

Sherlock blinked, his powerful mind making new connections and links between the question and what he had seen that day.

"Plausible." He said finally, "Considering the abilities you have demonstrated this evening."

Tory smirked.

"You aint seen nothing yet." She teased.

"So, what?!" John suddenly exploded. "You're both aliens? I've been dating an alien?!"

"Don't be an idiot John!" Sherlock ordered. "She's clearly human."

"We were both born on Earth." Jordan quickly explained. "Tory was adopted and raised human after her parents died. We met when we were eight. I am a Lieutenant Jordan Mason, Commander of the Time Lord Relations Department within UNIT. This is Doctor Victoria Williams, Time Lord and consultant to UNIT, also my Head Science Officer."

"The government must know." Sherlock prompted.

"Yes." Tory took over the explanation again. "We work for the government; U.N.I.T. is a government based organisation designed to combat the potential alien threat."

"Are you a threat?" Sherlock questioned.

"Yes." Tory answered blandly.

"What does this have to do with the murders?" he asked.

"Alien threat." Tory repeated.

"Are you saying the murderer is an alien?" John said, incredulous.

"Yes." Tory shot him a look.

"This is insane." John muttered.

"Big lizard-man," Jordan snapped, losing her temper, "you might have noticed that when he shot me." John flinched at the reminder.

"He got away." Tory admitted reluctantly. "You were hurt." she shrugged and smiled sheepishly before reaching into her pocket and pulling of the alien communication device. "The assassin tracked us using this. He thought that we were his target as I reactivated it, it tracks life signs so it picked me up the moment I turned it back on. Apparently it acts as some sort of tagging device, all you have to do is slip it into someone's pocket and the assassin does the rest."

"Does that mean he knows where we are?" Jordan questioned.

"No. I've blocked that function for the moment. The good news is that we can use this to lay a trap for him."

"Wonderful." Sherlock smiled. "I never like leaving cases unsolved."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

After Tory and Jordan reluctantly accepted Sherlock and John's assistance in the capture of their assassin, Tory and Sherlock started to plan, while Jordan retreated into the kitchen to wash up her mug and take a moment to think through what had happened that evening. Everything with John and then the murder then her getting hurt…it was almost too much for her to process; her mind stuttered and her hand rested on her stomach, her thumb rubbing over the fabric of the bandages.

"Does it hurt?" John asked. Jordan turned. He was standing the kitchen doorway, watching her.

"Not as bad as it could do."

"I told Tory to take you to a hospital." John offered, entering the room properly.

"She wouldn't." Jordan said. "Hates the places." What Jordan failed to mention was that if Tory deemed it required she would take Jordan to a hospital, just one in the future rather than the present.

"Well she wouldn't want to be discovered would she?!" John laughed nervously at his own joke.

"John." Jordan hesitated. "I'm sorry I had to lie to you."

"Classified, right?" John interrupted her. "You couldn't have told me the truth anyway. It was only one date."

"Yeah, not even a full date." The two looked away from each other awkwardly.

"Would you like to fix that?" John asked calmly.

"What?"

"A date." He said. "With me. A full one this time."

Jordan stared for a moment before smiling.

"Why, Mr Watson, I thought you'd never ask."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Right. Here's the plan…" Tory began as Jordan and John entered the living room only to up interrupted by Sherlock.

"That is, if you two are finished having your little domestic?"

Tory glared him into silence.

"As I was saying, the plan is this: Sherlock and I will act as bait, activating the communications device so the assassin can track us. You two," she pointed at Jordan and John, "will be armed, dangerous and ready to ambush lizard-man."

"Can bullets even but a dent in this thing?" John questioned.

"Yes. But we'll only kill as a last resort." Tory answered. "Jordan, the sonic blaster has a stun setting."

"I know, I know." Jordan rolled her eyes and pulled said blaster from its holster.

"I never noticed that." John muttered.

"Perception filter." Jordan explained. "Makes you not notice unless it's pointed out to you."

Sherlock stared blankly at the weapon in her hand.

"I think he's gone into shock." John joked.

"That's the problem with thinking you're the smartest man in the room." Jordan said, adjusting the blaster to the stun setting and then sliding it back into the holster. Tory rolled her eyes.

"Focus people." She scolded. Sherlock was still staring blankly. "Do we just…" she turned to John, "I mean…do we slap him or something?"

"No idea." John responded happily, watching his friend with something like fascination. "Never seen him do this before."

"Ah." Tory looked to Jordan for help. Jordan sighed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

 **The End**

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Tory and Sherlock walked the darkened London streets, as the alien assassin watched them from the shadows. John and Jordan were close by, waiting for the alien to attempt to strike. They didn't have to wait long.

The massive lizard-man leapt from the shadows. Jordan darted out of hiding, shooting it with the blaster. The creature went down with a loud cry. It didn't move again.

Tory walked over to it quickly, grabbing its gun and pocketing it.

"That was anti-climactic." She muttered, pulling a set of handcuffs, much too large to ever fit in her pocket, out and slapping them on the creature. "Off we go." She vanished in a flash of silver.

Jordan rolled her eyes.

"Show off."

"So what now?" John questioned.

"Now?" Jordan sighed, shaking her head and looking at him sadly. "You pretend we never met, this never happened." She gestured around them. "And we pretend that we're alright with that."

"What?" John demanded. "I thought…."

"I'm sorry." Jordan whispered. Tory reappeared and grabbed Jordan's arm. "So sorry." They vanished in a flash of silver.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Me: interesting fact: in my original drafts this story was called Silver and Gold; silver for Jordan (due to Tory) and gold for John (as we all know he has a heart of gold). I hope you enjoyed this! Feel free to leave requests for crossovers, if I know the fandom I'll be sure to give it a shot! This fiction is completely un-Beta read so if you find any mistakes I apologise sincerely. I own nothing but Tory, Jordan and the ideas behind this fiction. Thank you.

Tory: If there is demand for it a sequel can be arranged!


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